Raijin
by LapinNoire
Summary: In an age of war and a time of magic, the fate of the world rests in the hands of a young warlock; his name, Raijin. Merlin-PlotXover. Predictable pairings. M for future hijinks and Seifer's potty-mouth. Each character gets their own story, never fear, although realism dictates that some are not pretty. AU
1. Raijin and Fuujin

**Raijin and Fuujin.**

The green and pleasant fields seemed to pass swiftly by as the sunshine and fresh air moved the young man along at a comfortable, but reasonable pace. He stopped just a half mile before the border between his home country and his destination and made a spot of lunch from half a flagon of elderflower cordial, a couple of slightly stale scones and a lump of cheese. There was a mushroom pasty also sat in his knapsack, but he was saving that for later as it would be his last meal before reaching the walls of Camelot.

Few people passed him while he sat and ate his lunch, those that did were travelling back the way he'd come and had he been a smidgen brighter this might have concerned him, but as it was it didn't and he waved cheerily to them as they passed. A couple of them even waved back and stopped to have a little chat. The young man explained that he was going to visit someone in the Castle, that they were a friend of his mother's but that they'd never met so he wasn't sure how he would find them. The travellers told him that King Kramer – the reigning monarch of Camelot he guessed – was a fair king but rarely sighted these days. They said his son was brave but that palace life had corrupted a person who could probably have turned out alright otherwise.

The thought of the conversations sustained him as he crossed the border between the countries and carried on his merry way. He picked a few flowers as he walked, wondering if he ought to collect some tomorrow to present to his mother's friend – whom he was given to understand was a woman of quite some knowledge and experience.

The flower problem occupied all corners of his mind and as he wandered he began to pick the petals from his flowers in contemplation – give her some flowers, don't give her some flowers. In the end, the last petal told him to give her some flowers and make a nice impression. The sun dipped below the horizon and he made a little camp just off the road, fireless in case of bandits, and munched on his pasty. It had gone a little soggy through the day, but he didn't mind because it tasted just fine. The rest of the flagon of cordial washed it down and he curled up in the earthy loam to sleep.

The next day brought more sunshine and unseasonably hot weather – it was March and only just spring after all. Getting up was a little difficult this morning and without anything to eat to give him energy or anything to drink to cool him down the walk was uncomfortably hot and tiresome. By dusk however he had arrived at the walls of Camelot, hot, sticky and dusty. The first thing he did was to fill up his flagon from the well and pour it over himself. It earnt him a few strange looks, a few chuckles from behind hands as he blew the last droplets from the tip of his nose, but he didn't mind, it was refreshing.

It took him a little while to locate the quarters of the court physician but upon finding it he discovered no one to be home, but the door unlocked. Thinking very little of it as this was the place he was meant to be he took off his knapsack and began to look around while he waited for whomever to return home. He was just inspecting a bookcase – containing various encyclopaedias on apothecaria when a quiet cough from overhead drew his attention.

A woman was looking down at him from the rafters, a strange blade held in her hand and levelled at his head. He recoiled against the bookcase at the sight. Suddenly afraid that this was not the room he thought it was, or that he had just stumbled upon an assassin – she had the look of an assassin, sleek black clothing, thin belts around her hips carrying various pouches and a row of little daggers, gleaming silver hair bound tightly into a bun and an eye-patch – he covered his head with both hands and garbled "I'm 'ere to see the court physician, ya know! I'm sorry!"

There came an aggravated sigh and then, "NAME?"

"Raijin." He replied, eyes clamped shut and hands digging into his own hair, gripping it.

"SURNAME?"

"I don't have one, ya know."

A bated paused. "CLAN?"

Clan? What was a clan? Did she mean his village? His country? "Err, Ealdor?"

She gave an irritated click of her tongue and a soft thud indicated that she had abandoned the rafters. Raijin risked a peek between his fingers and saw that her hand was outstretched. He took it tentatively and they shook hands.

"FUUJIN." She said, "COURT PHYSICIAN. CROWN PROTECTORATE."

He breathed a hearty sigh of relief and cracked a smile before recalling the letter in his knapsack and scurrying over to retrieve it. Fuujin watched him with one eyebrow raised and only took the letter he offered after he clarified it was from his mother. She slit it open with the strange blade – it looked like an ordinary knife, only it was bent in the middle like the corner of a picture frame or something – and looked inside, reading only the first few lines before stowing the blade on her belt and rolling the letter, envelope and all, up and putting it in one of the pouches.

"DINNER?"

"Not yet, Ma'am. I only just got here, ya know."

She rolled her eyes and signalled for him to sit down at the table while she would get him something to eat. He gazed about as he was waiting. The office was extremely spacious, far more spacious than anything he was used to. It looked to be about the same as the house he shared with his mother – around 20 meters long by 6 meters wide, around about - and this was only one room. Another door lead off to the back and it wouldn't have surprised him if there was even more back there than there was out here. Certainly Fuujin had disappeared off to somewhere he couldn't see so there was much more here than met the eye. And what met the eye was very little indeed. He had expected a physician's office to be a cluttered affair, filled with books and plants and off things in bottles, their contents murky and the bottles themselves covered in dust. The tables – there would be many – would be littered with writing equipment, vials, pestle and mortar half filled with some medicine, perhaps some of it would have spilt across the table whilst it was being administered. Research projects would be everywhere and there would be no place to sit.

As it was, this office resembled nothing like the one in his mind. For a start there was only one table and two chairs. There was a blank piece of paper on the table and no writing equipment that he could see. Along one wall stood a line of bookshelves with their books in an ordered array – sorted alphabetically by title as far as he could tell – and along the other were shelves of empty containers. The place looked like it had no one living in it and – had Raijin not been forced to look up earlier – he might have believed that it was so. The only place which would reasonably suggest inhabitance was the rafters. They were dotted with objects, from jars with insects buzzing about inside, to piles of cloth neatly folded and arranged in a sort of wooden cage. Plants hung from hooks in the rafters, drying out for future use and one rafter sported a row of tiny daggers, perfectly in line. Odd.

Fuujin returned – from apparently nowhere – with a pot of tea and a bowl of apple and parsnip soup on a tray. She also produced a loaf of crusty bread and put the lot down on the table in front of her guest. "EAT." She said, then turned her back and walked away. Raijin watched – pouring some tea into the cup provided – as Fuujin climbed the first three layers of a stack of shelves, then launched herself at the rafters like a cat. She caught them and swung herself up gracefully, standing and wandering along them to the pile of cloth and extracting what he assumed to be linen.

The soup was divine and the bread so soft it almost felt like he was eating a cloud. It had just enough crunch to the crust to make it good soup-dipping bread though and he was enjoying it so much that before he knew it he'd eaten the whole loaf. Granted it wasn't particularly big, but he hoped she wasn't intending on having it for tomorrow's breakfast or she'd be sorely disappointed.

When she returned from the rafters, she was holding a number of things; a feather pillow; some linin; a broom; and a long-handled brush. She landed on the table with a thud, feet either side of his dinner things and rattling the table. "FOLLOW." She commanded as she leapt to the floor.

Grabbing his knapsack, Raijin did as he was bidden, following Fuujin to the door that led to the back of her quarters and opening it for her at her request. The back – he was a little relieved to find – was quite small. It consisted of nothing more than a room full of empty sacking and some old spider's webs, their previous inhabitants now nothing more than little shrivelled shells. Fuujin passed him the broom and told him to "SWEEP" while she went about making a suitable bed out of the sacking, tucking them under many layers of linin, thicker at one end than they were the other and with the pillow to indicate at which end his head should go. Once she was finished she disappeared again, leaving him to his sweeping.

Setting the broom up against the wall, he inspected the bed. It was very squashy and would probably come apart quite quickly if he wriggled about too much, but the linin she'd provided was soft and smooth – apparently never being used particularly regularly or for any great length of time. Another thing that was odd, but he wasn't given much time to dwell on it because Fuujin returned and commanded him to follow her once again.

This time he could see the passageway quite clearly. It was cut into the wall in such a way that you only noticed it was there if you were standing at the back of the room. It disappeared between two sets of shelves and came immediately upon a set of stairs that led to a lower level. The lower level was a good size, not as big as the main room upstairs but bigger than the backroom. It was illuminated by the light of a fire burning in a kitchen grill and there was a lot more down here than there was upstairs. The table that sat down here was long and covered in things, mostly vegetables and a few bowls of other food stuffs, but there was a bucket full of soapy water and his dinner things – which he hadn't noticed that she had removed. On the far wall there was a weapon-rack, bristling with the most gruesome looking weapons he'd ever seen. Some of them he would have had trouble conjuring in his nightmares. In front of this though sat, rather dauntingly, a bathtub full of hot soapy water. On a stool next to it sat a bar of soap and the long-handled brush she'd been carrying earlier.

So this was where she bathed? In front of such a horrifying display of metal? In the semi-darkness of the fire-light? He wasn't sure what he thought of that, but supposed it was probably better if he didn't think anything of it at all, let alone allow the images of a naked female assassin bathing in the company of her tools of murder. At least she was kind enough to run him a bath.

"SOAP. BRUSH." She said, pointing to the objects as she listed them, "TOWELS. WASH. RELAX. SLEEP." And then, without any further ado, she turned around and made for the stairs to return above ground.

"Err, thank you!" Raijin said loudly, clasping his hands behind his back and throwing her a goofy smile as her singular eye turned on him. "For the food and the bath, ya know. I really appreciate it!"

She nodded, said "GOOD NIGHT" and then left. He turned and eyed the weaponry. What to do? He almost felt like they were staring at him. He'd never been in the company of so many weapons before. In fact the closest he'd ever come to a weapon was a breadknife! He wasn't sure he fancied stripping off in front of them.

Shuffling about a bit, wondering what to do, he finally settled on completing the task with his eyes shut so as not to have to look at them. Getting his clothes off was the easy part, but as soon as he stepped into the bath, his eyes would stay shut no longer. It was _heaven_! It was _just_ what he needed after so long travelling. He didn't think he'd ever felt something this good! His entire body surrounded by this much warmth… It was… Unreal! They had never had a bathtub in his mother's house so washing had involved ladling warm water over his head and scrubbing at his hair with scentless soap and a stiff comb. It had never been fun and although he enjoyed being clean the process had never inspired much affection. This however… He could get used to this.

The knots that had appeared in his muscles over the long walk just seemed to untangle themselves and the longer he sat there and relaxed, the more jelly-like his muscles seemed to go. He soaped himself up before he had the chance to forget what he was here for and scrubbed with the brush like he'd never scrubbed before. It was just the most divine feeling and the soap Fuujin provided him with smelt wonderful! Like a field of flowers in the summer, sweet and succulent. Part of him wondered what the soap would taste like, but he'd just had a full meal so he would refrain from eating her soap. The brush was soft bristled and he took great pleasure in scrubbing his shoulders and the back of his neck, revelling in the itchy feeling it left in its wake and the wondrous sensation of getting rid of that.

When he had finally soaked to his heart's content he clambered out of the now-tepid bathwater and picked up one of the surprising soft and fluffy bath-towels and began drying off with it. He took his time, enjoying the soft material on his thoroughly scrubbed skin, not even caring that the gruesome array of weaponry was still bristling at him from the wall. The bathwater was disgusting and he felt a little guilty for having to leave it for her to find in the morning, but he didn't know what else to do with it. Where was he supposed to empty it out? Did she expect him to haul it upstairs and empty it outside in nothing but a towel? Oh… That was another thing. His clean clothing was in his knapsack upstairs and the only clothing he had down here were so disgusting he was determined not to wear them until they'd been thoroughly washed. He heaved a sigh as his fate became clear. He was going to have to go upstairs and sneak into his backroom in nothing but a towel.

He gathered up his dirty clothing and began towards the stairs, casting a backwards glance over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. The worst way he could possibly make a name for himself was to present Fuujin with a bath full of dirty water and a manky pair of his pants on her kitchen floor. He'd have to kill himself to get over that…

Luckily for him he encountered no one on his trip to his room and was able to change into his clean underwear in peace. He slipped in between the linin sheets and sleep claimed him almost immediately.

Some hours later, he awoke to the sound of his name being called. A feminine voice, croaky from age and lack of use eased him from his slumber. "_Raijin…_"

* * *

**_A/N:_** Please leave a review and tell me what you think of it :)

-Lapin


	2. Kadowaki

_A feminine voice, croaky from age and lack of use eased him from his slumber. "__**Raijin…**__"_

The castle was silent as he walked through it, searching for the source of the voice. Torchlight flickered on the walls at regular intervals but as he followed the voice lower into the castle the torches became less frequent and soon he was walking in near pitch darkness. Reaching what appeared to be the lowest level of the castle, he came upon the dungeons, their stairwell being guarded by four guards, two at the top and two at the bottom. These four presented no problem and with a pass of his hand, they began to nod off to sleep. The voice which had fallen silent at Raijin's approach to the dungeons now chuckled, a low rumbled and a slow intake of breath.

"_Excellent…_" It purred and Raijin glanced about just in case it could see him and was there. "_Excellent… Come along, Raijin._"

Swallowing thickly, Raijin crept down the stairs, passed the sleeping guards and their card game, and to a thick wooden door, behind from which the voice seemed to be calling. The door had no keyhole but the handle didn't want to move, locked in some way that an ordinary person would never be able to open. It made Raijin want to open it even less. Lord alone knew what could be behind it that was so important or so dangerous that magic was needed to keep the door locked. Nevertheless, he passed his hand over the spot where the keyhole ought to be and heard a dull grinding, like old gears, followed by a soft _click_.

When he tried the handle this time it worked perfectly and the door opened outwards on silent hinges. He was faced with a set of stairs that descended into the gloom, a layer of mist gathering on the steps and a sudden coldness swept over him along with the voice, louder now. "_Raijin…_"

Now, his mother had always told him that if ever he felt scared, all he needed to do was to light a little candle and it would chase the darkness away, because only the frightening things lived in the dark. So Raijin stole a lit torch from its sconce and poked it into the stairwell.

It illuminated very little, only that the stairs appeared to be crumbling and that the walls of the stairwell were rough, as though they had been cut straight out of the rock itself. There had been nothing done to make this place aesthetically pleasing at it worried him more. The rest of the castle was constructed of stones, cut to just the right size and shape and decorated in trappings, tapestries and the like. Some of the grander rooms he was sure would be lined with wood and perhaps even a lick of paint or something else fancy. Even the dungeons he was currently standing in were in better nick than the stairwell and their stonemasonry was very precise. The stairs were foreboding.

"_Raijin… Come along, Raijin…_" The voice called again and he thought, as he heard it, that a rush of air from the stairwell ruffled his hair and the flame of his torch flickered. It was slightly warmer than the air that had come at him before and struck him alarmingly as breath.

Steeling himself with another thick swallow, he took the first few steps into the stairwell and into the gloom. As he descended carefully, the mist around his ankles got thicker, swirling around his legs and eventually, as he reaching the bottom of the stairs, it was so thick that he could hardly see his feet. He stopped at the bottom and attempted to have his eyes adjust a bit better to the dark to see what he was dealing with.

When they did he was met with a sight he had never in all his days thought he would see. He was standing in a ginormous cavern, gloomy and cold and dark. His torchlight illuminated great pillars of rock stretching from the ceiling of the cavern and down into the gloom. The faint sound of running water met his ears and he began to shiver in the cold. Beside him was an empty wall-sconce and he set the torch down in it before turning around to face the big empty space, rubbing his arms for warmth.

"Hello?" He called out, looking around. Suddenly a great black shape loomed at him from out of the darkness and a gust of wind nearly blew out his torch. Raijin stumbled backwards away from the thing and tripped, landing on his bottom beneath a massive set of jaws.

"Raijin, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." The set of jaws spoke and Raijin could do little more than simple gulp and nod his agreement. Yes, a pleasure indeed… "I am known as Kadowaki by my kind, though it has been nearly a hundred years since a human has spoken my name."

Good, names. Raijin nodded again, unable to speak for fear of what was now quite clearly a dragon. He made a cursory glance around them in case there were any more dragons around waiting to introduce themselves or squash him flat.

"No," Kadowaki spoke, answering his thoughts, "There are no other dragons in this cage. I am the last of my kind."

Clearing his throat Raijin managed a whisper, "That sounds terrible, ya know."

"Terrible, yes, but intolerable? No. I consider myself a scholar and most other dragons considered themselves predators." Kadowaki shook her head, "They are not such a loss after all."

* * *

Fuujin sat alone in the moonlight, on the roof of her quarters. She was reading the letter from Raijin's mother and had a great deal to think about. The letter detailed that Raijin was in possession of magic and had been since he was born. A few examples of flying dishes and locked doors were given and a request was made that Fuujin should aid Raijin in controlling his magic and using it for good. Raijin's mother had apparently done all she could to instil in her boy the idea that his magic be used solely for good and never for evil, but that was the extent of what she could teach him, having no knowledge of the actual practise of magic herself.

Fuujin rubbed at her remaining eye as she contemplated the implications of the letter. Magic users were outlaws in Camelot and to harbour one meant treason and the punishment; death. Fuujin owed Raijin's mother no great favours and by her own standard would hesitate to even call them friends. Fuujin had been passing through Ealdor years and years ago and had fallen gravely ill. Raijin's mother took care of her and in return Fuujin had cured an epidemic of potato rot that would have left the village starving. The debt was repaid and Fuujin was on her way.

If Fuujin decided to help Raijin and have him with her and educate him on the proper ways of magic, it was going to take a lot of hard work and was going to mean a heavy weight on her back. She was crown protector after all and for _her_ to commit treason… Her head would be rolling on the floor before she even had time to contemplate a plea of defence. As far as she could tell this Raijin fellow already wasn't too bright and given half a chance would probably spill the beans about his magic-gift to all and sundry.

Quite the dilemma. She looked over the letter again. It mentioned no date at which she was supposed to return Raijin home. Did that mean he would be living with her forever? Perhaps she could foist him off on someone else? Was there anyone else? Would that make her a traitor to him if she let him get caught? Certainly there was a hefty price on the heads of any magic-users in the kingdom and if anyone else knew of his magic they would probably hand him straight over to the guards even if only for the money. She heaved a sigh and curled up for a nap. She could decide what to do in the morning, after all, how much trouble could he get into in one night?

* * *

"So let me get this right…" Raijin puzzled, cross-legged on the floor before the Dragon. "King Kramer killed your kind because he hates magic-users. Magic is outlawed in Camelot and is a capital offense. You're holed up in here as an example to magic-users everywhere. And I'm the key to the future of the land?"

"Yes."

"But that doesn't make any sense, ya know!" He whined, "And this is dangerous! I don't want to be beheaded, ya know!"

"Then you must hide your magic well, young warlock." Kadowaki said, clearing her throat a little. As they had talked it had become smoother the more she used it, as though their conversation was knocking some of the rust off. "Your destiny will make sense in time."

"But what do you mean 'destiny'? I'm just a peasant from Ealdor, ya know. My destiny is to be a pig-farmer, entertaining the swine with petty magic-tricks! I can't do anything worth a 'destiny', ya know!"

"Then you will learn," Kadowaki said, not seeming at all phased by the apparent uselessness of the man before her. "Despite what you may think, there is a prophecy which was written in ages long since passed, in the beginning of my lifetime, that you would eventually come and the land would be united. All the pieces of the puzzle are here at last."

Raijin scratched at his head. "I don't understand, ya know. How could my existence be foretold that long ago?"

"Does that matter? You have magic, your power is great but your knowledge is lacking. You are the man who will become the legend. The prophecy."

"But what does the prophecy say then?" He asked, "What am I supposed to do, ya know?"

"Protect the future king." Was the simple answer. "Keep him alive at all costs. Your usefulness will become more the more you practise."

"But you just said-"

"I know what I said, young warlock. Don't interrupt me."

"Sorry."

"It is _his_ destiny to unite the Land into the fabled Albion and it is your destiny to help him. The prophecy tells of a great warlock guiding the King to unite the lands. You are that warlock. The woman, Fuujin, will teach you to control your magic." When Raijin looked sceptical about that, Kadowaki held up a claw to stay any protest. "She is wise beyond her years so do not doubt her."

Sighing in what seemed like acceptance, Raijin posed one last question. "How do you know that I'm the Warlock, ya know?"

"It's in your heart. I can hear it."

* * *

Water fetching. All he'd done all day was fetching water. After his long journey and the late night, the last thing he wanted to be doing was manual labour, but Fuujin had woken him up at the crack of dawn with a yoke in her hands and ordered him to fetch "WATER" while she went off and did 'something'. He'd asked her how much water she wanted – assuming it was just going to be a couple of buckets – and had been told to effectively fill the room. He'd made at least ten trips to the well and back already and he hadn't even had breakfast yet. Looks like he _had_ eaten too much of the loaf yesterday after all.

He grumbled and groaned as he trekked back towards the well at the bottom of the hill, two empty buckets strung across his yoke. As he rounded the wall of the courtyard the sight of a group of laughing men caught his attention and he stopped to watch them for a while. They were standing around joking for a little while, then the ringleader apparently had a wonderful idea of how he could show off and beckoned for the attending servant to pick up one of the targets normally reserved for archery practice. To Raijin's horror and the men's apparent delight, the ringleader then proceeded to throw knives at the poor servant, who was instructed to run about and attempt to avoid them.

Never being one for cruelty towards others, Raijin approached with the intentions of stopping this little display of power. He addressed them as though they were little children. "Come on, that's enough now, ya know."

All eyes turned to him and more than a couple of sneers appeared on faces. The ringleader however merely looked perplexed at having been addressed such.

"I beg your pardon," He asked, the next throwing knife held limply in his fingers and dangling at his side. "What did you say?"

"I said that's enough now, ya know." Raijin repeated, feeling a little of his confidence wailing. "You've had your fun, it's time to stop now, ya know."

"Who _are_ you?" The ringleader asked, sounding incredulous.

"I'm Raijin, ya know. From Ealdor."

The ringleader let out a short bark of laughter and the men behind him began to laugh as well. "So you're a peasant!" He crowed, "From Ealdor!" He turned around to grin momentarily at the laughing men, their mirth egging him on.

Raijin simply stood there, feeling more and more awkward as the moments went by. A large crowd was beginning to gather and he was beginning to wonder just what he had gotten himself in for. It was obvious that this guy was a noble of some description, the quality of his clothing looked far above that of any ordinary person.

"And I suppose you think you're going to stop me?" He asked, flashing all his pearly whites in a wolfish grin. "Raijin."

Raijin considered. He was a big guy, bigger than this prat and could probably take him on. He wasn't entirely unversed in the ways of weaponry, living on a farm in a remote village open to attacks from bandits certainly had its educational perks, but at the minute it wasn't him who was holding the knife. His best weapon right now had to be the yoke and his two empty buckets. Not a good match. But then he'd started this, it was only right to teach the prat a lesson, right? And if he won it might teach a few people to treat him with a bit more respect. He was a great and powerful warlock involved in a prophecy after all!

"Yes, I will."

There came a few 'ooo's and chuckles from the men and some muttering from the crowd of people gathered to watch. The ringleader smirked and without any warning loosed his throwing knife. It buried into the bottom of a bucket as Raijin swung the yoke around to fend it off.

The ringleader's eyebrow rose and he gave an appreciative nod before turning to one of the men and saying, "Give me your sword."

The weapon was handed over without any resistance and Raijin wondered just what kind of a noble this guy was to be able to command others so easily. He seemed to be above reproach as he advanced with the sword loose at his side and a grin on his face. The first sword strike was easily blocked over his head with the yoke because the sword was blunt – apparently only intended for practice – but the fist to his guts wasn't and all the air was knocked out of him.

The yoke fell to the ground with a clatter and Raijin fell to his knees, both arms wrapped around his stomach. The sudden urge to vomit was nearly over-powering and he clamped his lips shut just in case, face going white as he struggled with the urge.

The classy pair of boots – which was now all Raijin could see of the noble – paced about in front of him, the tip of the practice sword swinging in and out of view.

"I thought you said you would stop me, Raijin." An arrogant tone, a winner's gloat floating above his head. "That doesn't appear to have happened, now does it?"

Raijin shook his head. No it didn't. But if he had been able to use magic, he wouldn't be the one clutching his middle and struggling with an empty stomach, it would be this prat and all his laughing little friends.

"I don't suppose you're going to try that again anytime soon, are you?" The boots bent and a pair of knees appeared in his line of sight as well, crouching down as a gloved hand grabbed hold of his chin and roughly raised his head. Raijin stared into the eyes of his tormentor, but refused to shake his head. He _would_ try it again and the next time, he would be wise to the punch in the guts tactic and would avoid it. Next time he would definitely win and there would be nothing left for this little prat to crow about. Beaten by a peasant, from Ealdor, wouldn't that put a little smudge on his incorrigible pride.

An elegant eyebrow rose at the defiance and the gloved hand slipped from beneath his chin, letting his head fall again. "Although you did fairly well, blocked two out of three. Not bad for a peasant, especially one from Ealdor."

"SIRE."

With great effort, Raijin raised his head at the voice and was relieved to see Fuujin standing beside them, a few heads shorter than the prat and a salute held stiffly in position. Good lord, who _was_ this prat?

"Fuujin," The prat nodded to her and indicated to Raijin with a flick of the sword. "Has this got anything to do with you?"

Fuujin spared a glance – a distinctly unimpressed one – at Raijin, then nodded to the prat. "APOLOGIES. WARD."

The other eyebrow met the first one and the prat shot him a similar glance. "You should keep a better control on him, not let him run rampant through the streets and spoil my day."

Fuujin nodded, then indicated with her hand for Raijin to get up off the floor. He did so with a struggle and his mouth still clamped shut. "APOLOGISE." She commanded and he ground out an apology from between clenched teeth.

The prat nodded and promptly turned away, leaving Raijin under the gaze of Fuujin and the crowd as it dispersed. Raijin immediately began with his excuse. "He was mistreating that servant, ya know! I was only trying to help the guy out, ya know! And he's a prat!"

Fuujin shook her head, effectively silencing any further excuses and pointed to the yoke and buckets. He picked them up wordlessly and followed Fuujin as she led the way to the well and then back up to her quarters. The room was _not_ filled with buckets of water as she'd hoped, but was instead only half full, starting in the far corner and making a semi-circular shape with a path in it for Raijin to reach his backroom. She rolled her eyes at his uncompleted work and signalled for him to put the buckets and yoke down on the floor. He did so with obvious relief, then turned to look at her with a clear 'what next?' written on her face.

She moved around the table and sat in the furthest chair, gesturing for him to sit in the chair opposite. Once he was comfortably seated she produced his mother's letter and slid it across the table, rightly guessing that he hadn't yet read it. He skimmed it quickly then set it down on the table in front of them silently.

The expression on his face said that he was surprised by the letter's contents and more than a little daunted at the prospects. Silence reigned for more than a few minutes as Fuujin gave the information time to sink in, but at long last, Raijin licked his lips, looked up at her and whispered, "I met the Dragon yesterday…"

* * *

_**A/N:**_ I imagine there are a few theories on character placements popping up and if this reads a lot like the first episode of Merlin, that's because I'm taking the plot straight off the back of the show. It'll change as we get further in because the decisions the characters will make will vary - obviously - from those made my the characters in the show, so this is bound to follow a different path.

I hope this doesn't anger anyone, but if it does, I don't really mind because this is only a story and if I play God, I make the rules. That's the way it's going to go from now on, so you're just going to have to sit back and enjoy MY reality.

Please review and tell me what you think.

-Lapin


	3. Quistis, Seifer and Cid

_**A/N:**_ Ok... So here we deviate from the Merlin plot a little - there have to be other bits inbetween the main plot markers, I'm sure you'll agree - and we get to see a little more of the new characters. I still haven't decided what a goodly number of FFVIII characters will do in the Merlin world, but I have enough to be getting on with at the minute.

I hope you enjoy this.

* * *

**Raijin 3.  
**

_Raijin licked his lips, looked up at her and whispered, "I met the Dragon yesterday…"_

"DRAGON?"

This didn't bode well. And here she was thinking he couldn't get into much trouble in one night, but already he was sneaking about in the castle, visiting Dragons and all sorts! Was she going to have to start locking him in at night so he couldn't get out and cause trouble?

"The dragon that's locked away under the castle, ya know." Raijin mumbled, dark eyes glancing between Fuujin and the letter. "Kadowaki-"

"_QUIET_!" Fuujin hissed, standing suddenly from the table, her thighs smashing into it and shooting it into Raijin's gut. He stared at her in shock and she pressed a finger to her lips, giving him a furious look. No one should ever mention that name in here! Shushing him forcefully, Fuujin went to the still-open door, checked that no one was around, before shutting and barring it. When she turned back to the room Raijin was looking at her with an expression of confusion and slight offense. She rolled her eye and said a little more gently, "NO NAMES."

"Fine then," Raijin muttered gruffly, "'The Dragon'. She said you would help me learn-"

Her hand over his mouth silenced him and she shook her head. "NO MAGIC."

"But," Raijin pulled her hand from his mouth. "The Dragon told me you'd help, ya know. Said you were wise beyond your years, ya know. That you were trust-worthy, ya know!"

Fuujin rolled her eye again and shook her head. She would be getting herself into no such trouble for some stranger. Not even if the great Kadowaki said that she would. It was much less trouble for her if Raijin just went back where he came from. Perhaps Fuujin's biggest mistake so far was confiding in Raijin's mother long ago that she had magic.

"But!"

"NO."

"My destiny-"

"INCONSEQUENTIAL."

"It could help unite the land though, ya know!"

"UNWISE."

"But it's my destiny!" He whined, giving her a look that was supposed to bring her round. She shook her head.

"ILLEGAL."

* * *

The remainder of Raijin's day was spent fetching the remaining water and thinking about his destiny, which now looked as though it was not going to happen. He wanted more than anything to go down to the dungeons and speak with Kadowaki. But that was impossible for obvious reasons, the first of which was that Fuujin was now following him everywhere, watching him like a hawk and he doubted she would let him out of her sight until the day she turned him out.

He felt miserable. He felt unwanted. He felt like a blot on the face of humanity, yet again. For much of his childhood he had been shunned by everyone barring his mother. He was excited about visiting Camelot because no one knew him here and it was a chance to begin anew, fresh. Hearing he actually had a pretty cool-sounding destiny was a bonus. But now it seemed he wasn't wanted here either. Without Fuujin's help he was useless and no one needed a useless man around when they were trying to unite the Land.

At night, he found he was locked into the backroom and didn't even bother trying to escape. If what Kadowaki said was true then Fuujin was probably more than capable of taking him out with her own magic. It was disheartening and he went to sleep miserable.

* * *

In the morning his task was to take the water back down to the well and empty all the buckets back out. Fuujin had said it being something about a test of dedication, but Raijin guessed that she didn't need him anymore so his dedication had nothing to do with the matter. He dutifully took the buckets back to the well and poured the water away. It was time consuming work and tiring and boring. So, when the sounds of shouting and wailing met his ears he was more than happy to allow himself to be distracted.

Following the sounds he came upon the inner courtyard of the castle where a large crowd had gathered. He began to push his way through the crowd and as he got closer to the centre he could see a podium complete with masked axe-bearer and a man being led by armed guards through the crowd towards it. It didn't look good. On the opposite side, an elderly woman was being restrained by several people; she was screaming to be let go and that 'her boy' was innocent.

As the man was lifted onto the podium, Raijin's blood ran cold. This was an execution! He began to sweat. He'd never witnessed anything like this before and wasn't sure he ever wanted to. A firm voice rang out over the courtyard and all looked up. On a balcony a regal looking man who could only be the King stood, Fuujin and the Prat from yesterday stood either side of him. Raijin snorted, he'd figured the guy was a prat, but he didn't know he was a royal one!

"This man has been accused of practising magic and has been found guilty!" The King announced. The crowd was silent save for the woman's cries. "And as per our laws, the sentence for this crime is death!"

There were a few agonisingly silent moments, and then the axe came down and the man's head bounced once, twice on the podium. A spray of blood spat from his severed neck and the head was retrieved by the executioner before it could roll off the edge and onto the ground. He held it up for all to see. In the silence, a thick feeling began to well in Raijin's stomach, a lump in his throat and the urge to vomit. The elderly woman's shriek brought him out of his sickness however

"_YOU_!" She shrieked, eyes narrowed towards the king as she finally shook of her subduers. "You _fool_! You couldn't recognise magic if it hit you in the face! It was not my son who had the magic, it was me!" The King began to fidget visibly on the balcony and a few guards hove into view on the corner of the courtyard. "_I _am the one with the power and _you_… You don't even understand what you've done!"

"Seize her!" The King shouted as he spotted the guards and finally they could spring into action, but before they reached her she threw them aside with a flick of her hand.

"A son for a son!" She shouted at the King, whom by this point was half hidden behind Fuujin. The royal prat was hidden behind a knight. "You will suffer as I suffer, Cid Kramer! You will rue the day you killed my boy!"

And then, with a gust of wind, she was gone. It was silent in the courtyard for a few seconds, before a flurry of orders were shouted and soldiers began to flood the courtyard, diving into the crowd and pulling out old women at random. When they were discovered to be the wrong woman, they were tossed to the ground and the soldiers dove back into the crowds again.

Raijin decided it was high time he got out of there. Many people were fleeing the courtyard and Raijin decided to join them, not sparing the balcony or Fuujin any glances, his only intention being to get out of the way.

When Fuujin found him later he was packing his knapsack with the full intention of getting out of Camelot and back to Ealdor, where things were a lot less dangerous it would seem.

"STOP." Fuujin commanded, grabbing hold of the sack and tugging it, as though trying to remove it from Raijin's hands.

"Nope," Raijin shook his head, tugging back as he stuffed a loaf of bread wrapped in a clean handkerchief into the bag. "I'm not staying here after that, ya know! I could be next and I don't want that. I'm going home, ya know."

"DESTINY." Fuujin said sharply, giving the sack another tug, much harder this time and the material pulled through his fingers. The contents of the sack spilt onto the floor and a number of apples rolled away.

"Hey!" He complained, snatching his knapsack back and bending to retrieve his loaf. But Fuujin's fist in his shirt yanked him back up and shoved him against a wall. She was surprisingly strong for such a small woman.

"DESTINY." She repeated, single eye narrowed. "TALK."

"It doesn't matter anymore," He huffed, glaring down at her. "You said it's not your problem anymore and I'm not staying, so let me go, ya know!"

"NO. TALK."

"Why?"

"IMPORTANT."

"Oh now it's important!" He rolled his eyes, "It wasn't so important yesterday when I wanted you to help me, ya know! But now I'm leaving all of a sudden-"

She slapped him across the face and shook him by the collar. "TALK, RAIJIN."

He was gobsmacked. He'd never been hit by a woman before - well Hattie had slapped him when they were seven because he'd kissed her without permission, but she was a little girl and that didn't count – but it hurt! She was a lot stronger than she looked.

"I'll be a great and powerful Warlock and I'll help the future king to unite the land into the fabled Albion." He said dumbly and Fuujin released him, letting him slip down the wall and onto the sacking-bed.

She contemplated. The witch posed a problem. They'd not had many problems with magic recently and as such the kingdom's security had become a little lax. They could always tighten it again, but who would that help? Most of the guard didn't know what they were looking for and how much of a target was 'one old woman'? If Raijin had been in the courtyard - and she knew that he was – he would have gotten a good look at the witch and knew what he was looking for. Of course there were plenty of spells that would alter her appearance, so she could look like anyone. But if Raijin really had the magic potential Kadowaki suggested he did, then she would be no match for him. He'd be able to sense her from a mile off.

She looked at Raijin, who was watching her curiously, his knapsack and loaf clutched to his chest. It was a funny sight, such a big man clutching at a little tiny loaf like a small child, gazing up at her with big, round, dark eyes. Hard to resist really. She made a noise of agitation and rolled her eye; as much as she hated trouble, it would appear that this was a necessary evil for the safety of the King.

"FINE." She conceded, "I'LL HELP."

She had expected Raijin to rejoice, perhaps even crack a smile and thank her for sticking her neck out. But he simply shook his head and stuffed his loaf into his knapsack. "Nope," He said, "It's too dangerous, ya know. I'm going home."

"CAN'T!"

"Fuujin!"

They both looked to the door at the voice, then exchanged glances. It was an arrogant voice. The royal prat. Fuujin waved him to follow her and then stepped out of the backroom. Muttering to himself, Raijin followed.

The royal prat was stood at the front door, looking at the rafters, clearly expecting Fuujin to be somewhere up there. When she entered on ground level however he seemed quite surprised and when Raijin followed, the surprise turned to disappointment.

"SIRE." Fuujin greeted him and Raijin mumbled a greeting.

"My father wants to talk with you, immediately." The royal prat said and turned for the door, calling back over his shoulder, "You can bring your ward as well."

Fuujin shot Raijin a look, ordered him to be "SILENT" and then followed the royal prat out of the room.

* * *

The throne room was ginormous; long and wide with a high-ceiling that allowed for two rows of windows, one on top of the other. Dark stained oak wood panelling lined the room and the floor was gilt with a leaf pattern in shining steel, polished by people's shoes so the floor fairly glittered in the light that shone in through the painted glass windows. Court seemed to be in session when they arrived and the room was filled with people. They turned and bowed when the royal prat entered the room and cast curious glances at Raijin when he followed. It obviously wasn't a common occurrence to have a peasant in the throne room at such a delicate affair.

"Ah, Fuujin…" The King addressed her as they approached and the royal prat took a place beside the king, facing the court. Raijin stopped just behind Fuujin, intent on focussing on the conversation, but unfortunately he found himself distracted by the most alluring beauty and the conversation went along without him.

The alluring beauty was seated on the King's left hand side, on a smaller version of the throne he occupied, looking at the King as he spoke. She had delicate features, skin as pale as the moon, a delicate nose, full lips the colour of palest pink, pale blue eyes rimmed by thick dark lashes and topped by elegant eye brows. What struck him the most though was the long braid of rich golden hair that fell over her shoulder. It was a colour he had never seen before in anywhere save for great fields of barley, shimmering under the summer sun. It was beautiful and he couldn't take his eyes off it, like a golden rope that entrapped his soul and wouldn't let him go. He wasn't sure he cared if it didn't.

His name brought him back into the real world to see that the King was nodding slowly at him, eyes narrowed as he looked him up and down. "He's to be your assistant I gather."

"AFFIRMATIVE." Fuujin nodded.

"For how long?" The royal prat interceded. He had his arms crossed and was looking decidedly unimpressed.

"YEARS." Fuujin said, gaining a snort of derision from the royal prat and a toss of his head. This was clearly not the answer he was hoping for. Raijin resisted the urge to stick out his tongue.

"Well in that case make sure he doesn't get in the way of the preparations." The King said, leaning back in his throne as Fuujin nodded. "He may attend the feast as well if you find him something suitable to wear. Court dismissed."

The court bowed – Raijin a couple of counts behind the rest – and then began to file out. Raijin cast a look over his shoulder before leaving the room, only to see the royal prat sliming up to the alluring beauty, looking at Raijin with a smirk on his face that clearly said he knew what he'd been staring at throughout court. Slimy bastard. It just made Raijin dislike him more.

* * *

"Father, do you think it's wise to allow the festival to go on? Given the events of today, I don't think-"

"Until you are King," The King interrupted, picking a grape out of the bunch offered to him by a servant, "Which won't be for a long time yet, I make the rules and I see no reason to allow one old woman's grief to get in the way of an age old tradition." He popped the grape into his mouth and shook his head at his son. "There's nothing all that great to worry about."

"But, Father!" The prince paced in front of the throne, ignoring the plate of grapes that was offered to him. "She disappeared right in front of us! Plucked round out from underneath our noses on a gust of wind! She's powerful!"

"What's the matter?" The alluring beauty asked, a tone of laughter in her voice, "You're not afraid of her are you?"

The Prince sneered at her but any retort he could have made was cut off by the King. "_My_ son, afraid of a little witch? You must be out of your mind, Quistis. No. There's nothing to be afraid of. We'll have every guard looking for her, we'll scour the land from top to bottom until she's found and then we'll torch her. She'll not be able to get into the castle in any case so if Seifer remains in here there will be no risks."

"I'm not going into hiding!" Seifer scoffed and both Quistis and the King exchanged glances. "I'm not!" He insisted as they turned sympathetic gazes on him. "It's one old woman!"

"But she looks pretty powerful…" Quistis eased as Seifer continued to shake his head. "You could get hurt…"

"I could get hurt at the dinner table, Ice Queen-"

"Oiy! That's enough." The king rose from his throne and wagged a finger at his son. "Don't call her that. How old are you?" Seifer rolled his eyes as his father pointed to the doors. "Go away and do something useful, the pair of you."

Quistis rose from her chair with a slightly haughty expression – not at all used to being told off for anything, let alone fighting with the Prince - and stalked past Seifer and out of the room. Seifer, however, was harder to get rid of.

"There's supposed to be a jousting competition in the festival, isn't there." He said, folding his arms across his chest. "How am I supposed to compete if I'm to stay inside?"

"You won't be competing." The King said easily, accepting another grape but then thinking better of it and simply taking the whole plate.

"I have to compete." Seifer said, voice hard. "I have to defend my title."

"In light of recent events, the people will understand if you don't compete." The King said, stuffing another few grapes into his mouth. "Now be off with you, practise your sword-fighting or something. I hear you've been getting rather lax at that."

Riled by the jibe at his swordsmanship, Seifer turned on his heel and stalked from the room, making sure to slam the door extra hard as he left. A few torches by the door shook in their sconces.

* * *

Quistis was walking about looking for her hand-maiden when the sound of fighting reached her through an open window. Looking out she watched as Seifer chopped the head off a scare-crow and then proceeded to beat the stuffing out of the body. She wasn't an expert, but he looked upset.

Foregoing the search for her hand-maiden, Quistis decided to go outside and try and talk Seifer down from whatever it was that was eating him. If he was left this way he was going to be acidic and abrasive all day. She stood a short distance away as he beat the poor, unfortunate scarecrow into the mud. When finally he seemed out of breath and stopped smashing the thing to bits, she approached him.

"What's the matter?"

She thought she had posed the question quite kindly, soft voice, quietly spoken, little emphasis on any of the words… But the look the Prince gave her said otherwise. The green eyes bore into her, glowering from underneath pinched eyebrows. His jaw was set hard and the shape of his shoulders said he was tense. Maybe this wasn't a good time. Maybe she should have let him cool down a bit first.

"What's the _matter_, Trepe? What's the _matter_!? Why the hell should I tell _you_?" He asked, straightening up to his full height and towering above her.

"I was just asking because you seem stressed-"

"I _seem_ stressed?" He snarled, "Well you seem fucking female, am I right?"

"Goddamn it, Seifer!" She threw her hands up in the air, "I was only asking! You don't need to be so horrid!"

"Well maybe I'm in the mood to be horrid." He said bluntly, stabbing his sword – a real one and not the wooden one he should have been using for practise – into the mud-splattered corpse of the scarecrow. "Why the hell did you ask me anyway? Can't you tell this isn't a good time?"

"There's never a good time with you, is there." She snapped, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at him. So much for talking him down.

"Just fuck off."

"Don't use such horrible language."

"Fuck. Off."

"No."

His eyes narrowed, almost unperceptively and he folded his arms too. Stalemate. "What do you want?"

"Well I wanted to know what the matter was." She said, shaking her head, "But I don't think I care anymore. Be miserable for all I care. Who knows, I might have been able to help you."

"Oh fuck off," He almost looked like he would laugh. Almost. "Like you could make him change his mind."

"About what?"

"Oh, you've not heard? Funny that, I would have thought he would have announced it to the whole fucking world by now."

"What, Seifer? What would be announced?"

He shook his head and turned to walk away, grabbing hold of his sword and yanking it free of the mud, kicking the scarecrow away. "Doesn't matter. I'm sure you'll hear about it soon enough."

Quistis followed him, debating on whether or not she should reach out and touch him. He didn't often react favourably to her touch, but sometimes he didn't mind. His fire seemed to be out for the minute though – it amazed her sometimes how quickly he could change from fire-breathing beast into something vaguely human – so she grabbed for his arm, slowing him down a little so she could walk beside him. She let go as soon as she'd caught up, not wishing to test her luck.

"Hear about what?" She pushed, looking at him as they walked – over to the next scarecrow by the looks of it.

"About how crap I am at everything, apparently."

She frowned at that, "What are you talking about? You're not 'crap' at anything."

"You'd be the only one who thinks so." He said, leaving her behind as he went to 'take care of' the next scarecrow. "The King thinks my sword work is getting 'rather lax'." He attempted an imitation of his father's voice. "You're not allowed to compete in the jousting! You need to practise your sword work! You can't even defend yourself from one old woman!" The head of the scarecrow hit the floor and bounced. "Pisses me off. He never gives me any credit for what I do!"

"That's probably because he's not seen what you do." Quistis offered as Seifer kicked the head away. "I think your sword work is actually quite good."

Seifer turned to her with a sigh and sheathed his weapon. "Yeah, but what would you know about swords?"

* * *

_**A/N:**_ There will likely be quite a bit more in the coming weeks because my work-load has just dropped back down to normal and I have more free time to spend on writing.

So, any thoughts? Please tell me if you liked it, I'm just testing this out to be honest, seeing whether I should make it into an epic journey or just a small myth...

Your comments would be appreciated, thanks.

-Lapin.


End file.
